


Messier 42

by alpacasilk



Series: Sunflower Solstice [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comfort, Dark Fantasy, Fluff, Hardcore Pampering, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Korean Skincare, Maids, Massage, Mentors, Multi, Sexual Slavery, Yoga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28762317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacasilk/pseuds/alpacasilk
Summary: Series of oneshots about Alfred's life in the Underworld, set in the Orion Complex verse.1. Alfred has a difficult transition to life in Francis’ palace as a pleasure slave. The two maids who take him under their wings make it easier. Or: How Alfred learns about the wonders of a good moisturizer, the importance of self-care, and delicate power.
Relationships: America & Belgium (Hetalia), America & Monaco (Hetalia)
Series: Sunflower Solstice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048839
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Messier 42

**Author's Note:**

> Messier 42, also known as the Orion Nebula, is part of the much larger Orion Molecular Cloud Complex.
> 
> Something light and fluffy to balance out how dark Orion Complex is! I was going to post this next week, but then someone drew fanart for OC and _gah_ I love fanart

"Hey, Lucille," Emma whispered, "have you seen the new angel yet?"

Next to her, Lucille—hair done up in a long side braid and standing with impeccable posture in her modest heels—shook her head. "No, although I've heard from the guards that he's very rebellious and violent."

Emma let out a quiet gasp. " _Violent?"_

Lucille arched an eyebrow. "He used to be a general."

"But Arthur is such a gentleman!"

"Yes, well, this one—his name is Alfred, I think—is not. Do not get near him, Emma," she said sternly. "I will not see you injured."

Emma frowned. "He can't be _that_ bad, Lucille. The poor boy is probably just scared silly, that's all. Maybe he's only lashing out—"

There was a sudden commotion down the hall, and Emma trailed off as the sound of yelling reached them.

"You _fucking bastards_ , if you so much as lay a hand on me, I will rip out your entrails and feed them to you. Sick fucks, all of you! I'm not a fucking whore!"

Lucille shook her head again, this time in disapproval. "See, Emma? Nothing but trouble. Stay away from him."

* * *

The new angel was _really pretty_.

Emma tried to sneak peeks at him whenever she could, even though Lucille had warned her that he was a bad apple.

No one that pretty could actually be _that_ bad, right?

A pair of guards passed by. One of them held a cold compress to his swollen eye. The other had scratch marks down his cheeks.

"I don't know why the king would make _Jones_ , of all people, a bed slave," the guard with the swollen eye was saying. "He's got the face for it, but he's a killing machine, and he tries to bite off my dick every time I go near him."

"Well, I've heard that's why Bonnefoy hasn't officially started his pleasure training yet," the other guard replied. "He's waiting for Jones to simmer down."

The first guard snorted. "Yeah, good luck with that. Tartarus would freeze over before then. He's like a wild animal, completely out of control. Has he even been fucked?"

"Someone mentioned that Jones was with Bonnefoy and Kirkland the first night. I wouldn't be surprised if they both had him."

" _Kirkland?_ He's got a huge stick shoved up his ass."

"Apparently Jones and he used to be real close when they were generals—well, as close as those angels can be. You know they're all psychopaths."

"They'd have to be, to cause that kind of carnage and still be able to live with themselves," the first guard said grimly.

The pair walked out of Emma's earshot. The maid scrunched her forehead. Alfred didn't _look_ like a psychopath. From the glimpse that Emma caught the other day, he had just looked upset, and maybe a little sad and lost, like a boy who had gotten in way over his head and wasn't sure what quite to do with himself.

He had looked like someone who _really_ needed a friend.

* * *

The entire palace knew when the guards brought Alfred up. He was very vocal.

"Motherfucking perverted sons of bitches, unhand me or I swear to the gods, I will rip off your testicles and shove them so deep up your asses—"

Alfred's passionate threats abruptly ended with the sounds of a slap, a crash, and a sharp cry.

* * *

Emma made her way down to the dungeons, taking care to watch her step on the slippery stairs. King Francis hated keeping prisoners down there—the ventilation wasn't good, he said, but Alfred was too much of a liability to have in the palace proper. He'd smash all of the ornate expensive vases just to be difficult, or deface the beautiful oil paintings, and no one could have that. The artists had spent so much time and effort on their masterpieces!

Alfred was curled up in the corner of a tiny cell that was sparsely furnished with a cot, a basin of clean water, and a chamber pot. Wow, Emma hadn't thought that the facilities would be so medieval down here; the rest of the palace had running water and indoor plumbing and everything.

"Here," Emma said softly as she set a plate of fruit down next to him.

"…Thanks." His voice was hoarse. He sounded like he had been crying.

"Hey, are you okay?" The maid tentatively brushed his shoulder.

Alfred jerked away and raised his head from his arms. "Don't fucking touch me," he snarled, eyes blazing with fury.

Emma pulled back her hand as if she had been burnt. "Eek! Sorry."

The angel's glare softened. "Please don't do it again."

Emma bobbed her head, and the green ribbon in her caramel blonde locks bounced. "I won't!" She sat down beside the angel. "Hi! I'm Emma! I'm one of the maids here. Lucille says that I should stay away from you, but you don't look that bad. Why are you so angry all the time?"

Alfred let out a short, bitter laugh. "Wouldn't you be, if you were captured by your enemies and raped all day? I used to be one of the best generals in the Light army. A _hero_. Now I'm no better than a harlot." He spat the word out as if it were filth.

"Oh, sweetheart," Emma murmured, and didn't know what to say after that. She looked at his tear-streaked cheeks and the purpling bruises on his arms. He seemed like he needed a nice, long soak in the baths, but when she suggested it, he threw the plate of fruit at her.

Well, at least he was considerate enough to not aim for her head, Emma reflected as she scrubbed out plum juice from her dress that night. Sugary liquids were a pain to get out of hair.

* * *

The next time that Emma saw Alfred, he was sprawled out across the little cot that Francis had set up for him in the dungeons, and uncharacteristically quiet.

"Alfred? Are you all right?"

"…Why do you care," the angel muttered, staring at the gap of light in his cell. There were some scratches on his arms, but no bruises. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked like he hadn't slept in a while.

Emma pouted. "I haven't heard you around the palace in a while. Are you getting sick?"

Alfred heaved a sigh. "No. I fucked up. I fucked up and someone got really hurt. There's no point anymore. I'm never leaving this gods-damned place. Whatever. I don't care at this point."

Emma bit her lip. Whatever fire that Alfred had when he entered the palace seemed to have been completely extinguished.

"You poor darling," she said sympathetically. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say? I tried to escape and someone else paid the price. I'm not a hero. I'm a fucking idiot."

"Aww, don't be so hard on yourself, sweetie." Emma was getting tired of standing, and her neck was starting to hurt from craning to look at Alfred, so she perched at the edge of the cot. To her surprise, Alfred scooted over a little to give her more space. "If you mope all the time, you'll ruin your complexion, and that would be _tragic_." She widened her eyes for dramatic emphasis.

Alfred let out what sounded like a half-hearted chuckle. "Would it be?"

"Oh, yes!" Emma nodded. "You've got _amazing_ skin, and your bone structure is phenomenal! You're _so_ pretty, but you really have to take care of yourself better!"

Alfred looked at her with something between confusion and amusement, eyebrows raised and lips slightly curved upward, as if he wasn't sure what exactly to make of her. It was an endearing expression on him, and Emma decided that she wanted to see Alfred smile for real. It would be _gorgeous_.

She made up her mind. "I'm taking you to the baths, Alfred," she announced. "You're kind of grimy and gross and you need a nice hot soak with a bath bomb or ten. And you need to meet Lucille! _Right now_. She'd love you!"

Alfred was utterly baffled by this rapid turn of events, but he allowed himself to be dragged up from the cot and pushed up the dungeon stairs as Emma chattered away happily. And when Emma and a maid wearing glasses stripped him, shoved him into a bath scented like roses and jasmine, and started scrubbing at his hair, he allowed that, too.

* * *

" _Alfred_." Emma was _so_ disappointed. There was a bruise on the angel's cheek, and one eye was swelling shut. "What have I told you about fighting the guards?"

"To not do it," Alfred groused. "But—"

Emma held up a hand to silence him. "Ah-ah-ah, sweetheart. I _know_ that you don't like it, but you have to learn to deal with it!" She took out a small jar of cream from her dress pocket and began to slather it on the bruise.

Alfred bristled. "I don't _have_ to learn to deal with anything, there's no fucking way in Tartarus that I'm rolling over and being a good little bitch for a bunch of perverted demons."

"And what do you get out of your one-sided fights, Alfred?" Lucille cut in, voice cool as ever. "Except for marks on your skin and pain?"

"My dignity," Alfred hissed. "I used to be a _general_ , one of the best. I slaughtered demons like those assholes by the thousands. I used to have so much _power—"_

"Those days are gone. You are not a general anymore." Lucille peered at him from where she leaned against the wall. "Power, huh? You have plenty of it here."

Alfred laughed bitterly. "Don't play jokes with me, Lucille. I'm not in the mood for it."

"I'm not. Tell me, Alfred. Have you ever taken a lover?"

"It's frowned upon for any angel to enter into a romantic relationship," Alfred said, scowling. "And it's _forbidden_ for an angel general to be part of one."

Lucille relaxed back against the bricks.

"So you know nothing of the kind of power that I speak of. Delicate power."

" _Delicate_ power?" Alfred repeated incredulously. "Nothing is delicate about power, Lucille. Power is about strength. It's _power_."

"Lucille is right, Alfred!" Emma had finished applying the cream and was wiping her hands on her skirt. "Don't you see the kind of influence that Arthur has over King Francis? He doesn't have to fight or use his magic for the king to allow him to sit on war meetings. And he sits at the king's side during dinner, not at his feet. Why, he's practically King Francis' equal at this point!

"You can just tell how much he means to King Francis from the look in his eyes whenever he sees Arthur," Emma sighed at how romantic it all was. "One day, someone will look at you the same way, Alfred! You're so pretty—someone will treasure you just as much, if not more! I just know it!"

Alfred gaped at her. "I don't want to be _treasured_ by a demon, Emma. I'm not a shiny bauble to be flaunted around!"

"No, of course not!" Emma replied hastily. "But think about how nice it would be if someone were utterly infatuated with you, Alfred. They'd take such good care of you, and treat you so gently, and you'd have all the power in the world. You could say what you want and do whatever you desire, and they would never be able to bring themselves to hurt you.

"You would never be hurt again," Emma smiled, wistful and sad. "If that's not power, I don't know what is," she concluded quietly.

Alfred tilted his head at the change in her tone. "Emma, is everything all right?"

Emma's dainty hand patted his cheek. "You're darling. You'll be absolutely fine!" Her voice was cheerful again.

She stood up. "Shouldn't you be heading to the barracks? It's getting late, dear."

"What are you talking about? I always sleep here. There's no way I'm willingly going anywhere near those handsy bastards."

Emma gasped. "You've been sleeping in this tiny cell every night? But it's so drafty down here—you'll catch cold!"

"I've been fine so far." The angel shrugged.

Emma exchanged a look with Lucille, then tugged Alfred up. "You're coming with us, Alfie. There's room in my bed. I won't have you down here by yourself for another second."

* * *

"Emma, your bed is _tiny_."

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm not a hotshot general who's used to a four-poster canopy bed. Shut up and get in, ya little brat."

"It wasn't a canopy bed," Alfred huffed as he crawled on top of the twin-sized mattress. The sheets smelled nice, like lavender and cocoa and floral perfume.

Emma smiled at him and squeezed in. "It's just like a sleepover now!" She cheered. She wrapped her arms around Alfred's shoulders and pillowed his head against her chest.

Alfred blushed. "Uh, Emma, isn't this kind of awkward?"

"Hm? Why would it be?" She blinked at him. "Didn't you do this with your siblings growing up?"

"I have a twin brother, but we haven't done stuff like this together since we were very young."

Emma hummed thoughtfully. "I used to sleep this way with my brother all the time. The winters were so cold that we had to share body heat, or we'd freeze in the night. It's so chilly in the dungeons, Alfie—I honestly do think that this is better. At least now you'll be warm."

Alfred sighed. "If you say so." He clumsily maneuvered his arms around the maid's waist—the bed really was small—and closed his eyes. He could hear the steady beating of Emma's heart and her peaceful, even breathing. Her chest gently rose and sank with each inhale and exhale.

Alfred's last thought before sleep overtook him was that it was actually really, _really_ nice to be held like this.

* * *

Emma awoke to quiet whimpering. In the weeks since Alfred had been spending the nights with her, he—and consequently, she—had been waking up in the middle of the night several times a week due to nightmares. The first few times had been rough, but the caramel blonde knew what to do by now.

"Aww, again, sweetheart? Don't you cry, Emma's got you," she soothed as she ran a hand tenderly through Alfred's hair, taking care to avoid the cowlick. She had made the mistake only once before—"Don't touch it, Emma!" "Huh? Why…? Oops! Sorry, Alfie!"

Alfred's hair was so silky and soft, Emma reflected as she continued to pet him, green eyes staring at the ceiling. Lars' hair hadn't been so fine.

Lars had also liked it when she stroked his hair after a nightmare. He hadn't had so many as Alfred, though, and they certainly hadn't been as bad.

She hoped that he was okay, wherever he was.

Emma's brow creased as Alfred let out a low whine. "Davie," he whimpered. "Davie. Davie, Davie."

Ah... She adored Alfred, she truly did, but this wouldn't do. One of the generals would be coming tomorrow—Antonio, she thought with a pang in her heart—and she had to be up early to make sure the guest suite was in tip-top shape.

She carefully hauled Alfred up.

"Sweetie," she shushed him. "I'm taking you to sleep with Lucille tonight, okay?"

Alfred, eyes still shut tightly, nodded. "Sorry, Emma," he mumbled. "I woke you up."

She stroked small circles on the back of his hand.

* * *

"Hey, Lucille," Emma's voice was quiet in the darkness, but the other maid's eyes opened immediately.

"What is it?"

"Alfie had a nightmare, and now he can't sleep. I can usually take care of it, but you know that I have to be up early tomorrow. Do you mind...?"

"No," Lucille said crisply. "Come here, Alfred."

Sniffling, the angel trailed over to her. Lucille pulled him down on top of the covers. She draped a blanket over him, stopping short of the base of his wings. With sure, strong fingers, she kneaded at the junction where the feathers met his back.

Alfred melted instantly into the touch, cooing like a dove.

"I've been trying to get him to calm down for _ages_. How...?"

"Arthur told me that angels have very sensitive wings."

"Oh, you're just the best, Lucille. Thank you _so_ much."

Lucille smiled faintly in the moonlight. "Good night, Emma." She brushed her hand along the tips of Alfred's wings, and the flight feathers quivered.

Before long, the room was filled with the sound of the angel's soft snores.

* * *

"Ack! Hold still, Alfie!"

"It _tickles!"_

Emma swiped the razor one last time, dabbed on one last blob of the expensive cream, and nodded at Lucille, who gently set down Alfred's legs.

"All done! Now you'll never have to worry about shaving again!" Emma was proud of her handiwork, and it showed on her face in the form of a cat-like grin.

Freshly shaved and waxed, the angel examined himself in the large mirror in the bathroom. All the hair below his eyelashes had been meticulously removed, and a special ointment had been applied to his entire body so that it was smooth and petal-soft all over.

Alfred frowned at his reflection.

"I look like a harlot," he protested. "I _feel_ like a harlot."

"And what's wrong with that?" Lucille asked sharply. "You _are_ a harlot now, and you have all the power that a harlot does—which is a lot. Do not be foolish and let your pride get the better of you. Being a harlot is far from being the worst fate you could have."

Alfred stared at her, wide-eyed.

"Do you think that you are the first pleasure slave to enter this palace, Alfred? Do you know what happened to the ones who came before you? Some of them were taken as favored concubines or gifted to high-ranking demons as additions to their harems. Some left to begin independent lives as courtesans, taking on clients who granted them political and social influence among the upper echelons of society.

"Others went insane. They were sent out of the palace to languish in the brothels of obscure towns, or they killed themselves in the dark of night. They did not yield, so they shattered. It was inevitable. Those were the ones who refused to accept the truth of their circumstances, could not bear their role.

"Alfred, you cannot change what happened to you in the past. You are here now, and you must learn to yield if you want to survive."

Lucille stroked Alfred's cheek with her thumb.

"Your beauty is extraordinary. But more than that, you are dangerous. You are the kind of treasure that any demon would yearn to possess. Who could pass up the chance to own a siren song?" Her fingers gripped Alfred's chin. "You would be cherished by your master—no, you might even be loved. Do not throw all that away, Alfred. Do not be foolish.

"You've been in the palace long enough to know that if you want to have a comfortable life as a captive in the Underworld, then you have to live by the palace's rules."

Lucille plucked a bottle of glamour-enhancing oil from a nearby shelf and began to massage it into the angel's skin. Emma smiled at her as Alfred ducked his head, shaking slightly but unresisting. The scent of apricots and cardamom grew more pronounced.

"It's high time that you play the game."

* * *

"Hey, Emma," Alfred's voice was hesitant, a little timid. "Do you think that my nails are the right shape?"

Emma cast a critical eye over Alfred's hands, then ran the pads of her fingers over his palms.

"Your nails are fine, but your fingers are so calloused, Alfie!" She whistled for Lucille. "Have you seen the mani-pedi kit? I think it's by the vanity, but I'm not sure."

"We'll get rid of those callouses in no time." Emma ruffled the angel's hair affectionately. "We better make it a Spa Day, while we're at it. Sweetheart, you're gonna feel like a million bucks after we're through with you!"

Alfred smiled at her shyly. "That sounds really nice. Thank you, Emma."

* * *

" _Ow!_ That _hurts_!"

"Oh, belt up," Lucille said, amused. "We're just giving you a full-body sugar scrub with milk and honey. Your skin will be like satin after this."

Alfred whined. "Is looking pretty always this much work? And pain?"

"Oh, darling, you have _no_ idea how good you have it." Emma said, pinching his cheek gently. "You're naturally lovely, so you don't even need to put on makeup all the time. That's why it's _so_ important that you take care of your skin. Speaking of which," she perked up, "have you heard of this ten-step routine from a human country called Korea? It's all the rage right now!"

* * *

"All right, Alfie. Repeat after me. Oil-based cleanser, water-based cleanser, exfoliator, toner, essence, ampoule, serum, sheet mask, eye cream, moisturizer."

"Oil-based cleanser, water-based cleanser—I really don't think I need two cleansers, though. When I was in Heaven, I just used the standard army issue soap to wash my face once every couple of days."

" _You used non-pH-Balanced cleanser on your face?!"_

"I guess?…. Emma, you look kind of scary right now."

Emma took a deep breath to collect herself. No, she couldn't get mad at Alfred, the poor boy didn't know any better.

But for someone who didn't know the first thing about skincare, he had _ridiculously_ good skin.

She squinted and leaned closer. Not a single blemish, just a light dusting of freckles. Did Alfred even have _pores?_ Emma had been trying out every cream under the sun to minimize hers, but none of it seemed to have made any difference.

Maybe the climate in Heaven was particularly humid? Moisture wouldn't hurt…

Emma poked Alfred's forehead. "Hey, was the climate in Heaven super humid?"

"No, Heaven is really dry. It's pretty much a desert, arid and hot all the time."

Emma walked out of the room.

Alfred watched, curious, as the door was slammed so hard that the hinges rattled. "Uh, Lucille, is Emma angry?"

Lucille snorted. "Hardly. Sit still for a second. I'll be right back."

The taller maid opened the door to see Emma sulking against the wall of the hallway.

"Not fair," the caramel blonde muttered darkly. "Hasn't applied moisturizer a day in his life—doesn't even know how to wash his face—and his skin's like _that_?"

"Arthur once mentioned that the angel generals were selected for their beauty as well as for their skill."

" _No one_ has skin like that without a ton of products! It's _not fair_."

Lucille patted Emma consolingly on the shoulder. "There, there. We better get inside before Alfred starts to worry. Weren't we planning on teaching him to contour and apply eyeliner afterwards?"

"Ugh, he doesn't need it."

"Maybe not, but it would be good for him to know. Besides, you love breaking out the eyeshadow palettes and mascara."

Emma spun around at that. "Oh, Lucille, he'd look _so_ good with a touch of silver on his eyelids," she squealed, eyes sparkling. "Some copper eyeshadow, too. Just like a little doll."

Lucille chuckled. "There you go. Now come on, before Alfred gets bored enough to slather something on himself that he's not supposed to."

* * *

Alfred puffed up his cheeks as he examined himself in the mirror. "Hey, Emma, I think those creams you suggested are working—my skin is looking, um, what did you call it?"

"Dewy?" Emma looked up from where she was applying a fresh layer of topcoat to her nails. "Chok Chok?" She waved her fingers, now tipped in a tasteful shade of emerald, in the air to dry faster.

"Yeah!"

Emma laughed. "Great! I knew that your skin would _love_ propolis. Lucille just made a new cream yesterday, too. It's supposed to be able to replace four steps in the routine."

Alfred whipped around. "Seriously?" He asked eagerly.

"Mhm! Essence, ampoule, serum, moisturizer, all in one. It has snail mucin in it, though."

Alfred made a face. "That stuff is disgusting. I can't believe they get it by making snails orgasm."

"But you'll still try Lucille's cream?"

"Heck yeah!"

* * *

Alfred was curled into a tight ball on the divan when Emma came in. The maid heard a little sniffle.

"Oh, darling," she settled next to him and patted her lap. "Come here, Emma's got you."

The angel crawled into the comforting hug and buried his head into her chest, still sniffling.

Emma stroked his wings gently. "Was Jacques mean to you again?"

Alfred gave a small nod into the crook of Emma's neck.

"Did you use the oil I gave you last time to stretch yourself?"

"I didn't have time…" He whispered.

Emma clutched him closer. "Alfie, you _have_ to make time. Otherwise, it'll really hurt, especially since your body heals so quickly." She rubbed his shoulders.

"You have to be _always_ prepared, Alfie. I'll tell Lucille to sneak you some strawberries later tonight, okay?"

"Okay..."

Emma sighed. "You don't deserve this, dear. You're too sweet and innocent and good for this kind of life."

Alfred finally turned towards her. There was a watery smile on his face. "Emma, I used to shoot entire platoons of demons full of lead. I'd hardly call myself innocent."

Emma shook her head stubbornly. "That's not what I meant, Alfie. You're too pure. You're not jaded yet, gods know how." She threaded her fingers through his hair. "Despite it all, I don't think that you'll ever be able to break anyone's heart intentionally."

Alfred didn't respond, but he relaxed into the touch.

* * *

"Inhale, bring your arms overhead… Exhale, sink into a forward fold…."

Emma giggled. "Still can't touch your toes, Alfie?"

The angel pouted. "You know that I'm not used to doing yoga. I still don't know why you and Lucille are making me do it."

"We've told you a billion times—self-care is really important! Yoga will make you nice and supple. Trust me, the guards will appreciate it, and you will, too."

" _Ugh_."

"You'll be calmer after a few more downward dogs," Lucille said from her mat. "Let's keep going with the Sun Salutation. Inhale, rise up…."

* * *

"Well?" Emma looked at Alfred expectantly. On the other side of the divan, Lucille was casually filing her nails.

"The guards are actually calling me by my name, instead of 'whore' or 'slut,' so that's better, I guess," Alfred rolled his eyes. "I still don't think it was because of the yoga, though."

"Oh, the yoga _definitely_ helped. Have you tried to kick someone lately for bending you over?"

"No, but—"

"And didn't one of them give you a book that you were interested in?"

"Okay, yes, but—"

"And isn't it starting to feel _good_ now?"

Pink crept up Alfred's cheeks. "Just a little," he muttered. "It doesn't _hurt_ , anyway."

"Ah-ha!" Emma pointed a finger at him, triumphant. "The yoga works! So I don't want to hear about you skipping another session to read your boring-ass physics books or something like that again, got it?"

Alfred nodded, looking guiltily to the side.

The caramel blonde cackled. "Gods, you're such a _nerd_." She tugged Alfred into her arms.

"By the way, Alfie, men _love_ it when you—" Emma drew Alfred close and whispered into his ear. The angel gulped and flushed bright red.

" _Really?_ "

Emma gave him her signature cat-like smile. "Have I ever misled you, sweetie? Try it next time." She winked.

* * *

"Oh my _gods_ , that feels incredible," Alfred moaned into the pillow. " _Don't stop._ " The room smelt strongly of apricots, cardamom, and flowers.

Lucille cracked her knuckles, a satisfied smirk on her lips. She poured more of the lavender massage oil onto her fingers and dug deep into a knot on Alfred's back.

She glided one hand down to his slim waist. Between the yoga, the diet of only fruit, and his daily routine, Alfred had more or less lost his soldier's physique. He was toned and willowy now, perhaps even a little fragile.

The guards were eating him right up. Alfred had taken admirably to the lessons that she and Emma gave him.

In a few months, the guards would be wrapped around his little finger. _Delicate power_... Alfred was playing the game well. But knowing a few more tricks wouldn't hurt.

"You're learning to give massages after we're done." Her tone left no room for argument.

"Y- _yes_."

* * *

_Speak in a low, breathy voice. Sway your hips a little when walking. Prop your legs up and show some thigh. Moan that way. Hook your legs around their waists. Tangle your fingers in their hair, all men like a willing, enthusiastic partner…_

Splayed out across the divan, Alfred smiled sweetly at the guard nearby. "Hey, big guy," he breathed, and crooked a finger. The guard almost fell over in his haste to get closer.

Alfred draped a slender arm around the demon's shoulders. "There's something that I really, _really_ want," the angel whimpered, "but no one here's been willing to give it to me…"

* * *

Francis paused in his nightly stroll around the palace at the sound of laughter that drifted out of a room down the hallway.

Emma, he heard, and someone else. Ah! Could it be…?

He sidled to the door and peeked inside.

Alfred's golden head was pillowed in Emma's lap; the maid was running her fingers through the angel's hair.

"…So then he _actually_ went to the human world and got me a hamburger!" Alfred was grinning widely. "And all I had to do was…." He pulled himself up and murmured something into Emma's ear.

Emma gasped, pretending to look scandalized.

"Oh, Alfie, you _naughty_ boy!"

They burst into peals of laughter. Seated on the chaise across from the pair, even Lucille snickered.

Francis watched the scene with an expression of approval. How wonderful, he thought, smiling fondly. Alfred looks to have settled in quite nicely; the former general was finally ready to begin his training in earnest.

**Author's Note:**

> Alfie was having an awesome time being Emma and Lucille’s little bro, too bad mean Ivan had to come by and snatch him up (◕ᴗ◕✿) They’ve definitely left an impression on him, though!


End file.
